The Couch

You hadn't seen your father in such a long timeHe died in the arms of his loverHow dare heYour mother never left the houseShe never married anyone elseYou took it upon yourself to console her

You reminded her so much of your fatherSo you were banishedAnd you wonder why you're so hypersensitiveAnd why you can't trust anyone but usBut then how can I begin to forgive herSo many years under bridges with dirty waterShe was foolish and selfish and cowardly if you ask me

I don't know where to begin in all my 50 odd yearsI have been silently suffering and adapting, perpetuating, and enduringWho are you younger generation to tell me that I have unresolved problemsNot many examples of fruits of this type of excruciating labor

How can you just throw words around like grieve and heal and mournI feel fine, we may not have been born as awake as you wereIt was much harder in those days, we had paper routes uphill both waysWe went from school to a job to wife to instant parenthood

I walked into his office, I felt so self-conscious on thecouch.He was sitting down across from me, he was writing down his hypothesis.I don't knowI've got a loving supportive wife who doesn't know how involved she should getYou say his interjecting was him just calling me on my shit

Just the other day, my sweet daughter, I was driving past 203I walked up the stairs in my mind's eyeI remember how they would creak loudlyShe was only responsive with a drinkHe was only responsive by photoI was only trying to be the best big brother I could

So here we both are battling similar demons (not coincidentally)You see in getting beyond knowing it solely intellectuallyYou're not relinquishing your majestryYou are wise, you are warm, you are courageous, you are bigAnd I love you more now than I ever have in my whole life